


How Do You Just Forget

by Starrik



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrik/pseuds/Starrik
Summary: It's a few years down the line, where wounds have scabbed and lives are lived, and Christmas rolls around once again at the Burrow. All the gifts are under the tree, and the whole family is there, but there's just a little something that Harry's forgotten.





	How Do You Just Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the artwork of blvnk-art.tumblr.com who has the best Hinny depictions I've ever seen.

If Molly Weasley was protective of her children before the war consumed them, broke them apart and let them fall back together again, then she was like a dragon hoarding them at its end. Ron was heard complaining that if he failed to send her a letter every couple of days, or show up at the Burrow, she would appear on their doorstep in a righteous fury, ready to storm any fortress, climb any wall to go without losing another child.

Any child who has had a parent watching over their shoulder every minute will eventually stop telling them things, not by intention but through exhaustion. Being interrogated about every minute part of your life grows old fast, even when it comes from a place of love. Molly was the last to find out that the trio, Ginny, Luna and Neville all ended up living in the same house, none of them with any wish to try living alone. She didn’t find out that Ron and Hermione had gotten together for months, or that Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had rocketed to international fame because George had hired Percy to manage the financial side of the business.

She was furious when little Victoire Weasley showed up at Christmastime her first year, already walking like it was no big deal, and glared at Bill when he shrugged and told her that he’d simply forgotten.

* * *

 

Harry smiled softly to himself as the three of them caught their first inklings of the familiar tones of Molly Weasley yelling at one of her children floating up to them. Something would be wrong about arriving at the Burrow without at least _someone_ getting in trouble, he decided. It was practically tradition. He nudged Ron in the side, trying to break his friend’s glum mood at spending Christmas without Hermione.

“Cheer up, mate, it could be you that’s getting yelled at.” A smile broke Ron’s sad frown, and his punched his sister on the arm.

“Bet on which brother it is? I’m calling Bill.”

“I’ll give you three to one that it’s Dad.”

“You’re on. What about you, Harry?”

“My money’s on George. What do you say, a Sickle each?”

Ron’s smile broadened as he took a silver sickle from each of them. Even if he didn’t win, holding money never failed to cheer him up. Harry’s wand wavered for a second, and the precarious tower of presents that he had floating in front of him wobbled worryingly.

“Careful, Harry,” scolded Ginny. “If you break so much as one of those gifts before they’re under the tree, I’ll…”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?” he asked, grinning with amusement.

“I’ll knock you down, and I’ll kiss that stupid grin off of your stupid face.”

“You two are disgusting,” Ron grimaced, looking away.

“You can’t talk mate, I remember just last week one particular couple forgot they don’t live alone.” Ron’s face started to match his hair, and he took off towards the Burrow at a slow jog to get away from them both, particularly Ginny’s raucous laughter. “Think it’s going to be alright this year?” he asked softly.

“Yeah… yeah I think it will. Charlie promised he’d come, and with baby Victoire I don’t think we’ll really notice the quiet.”

“It’d better not be quiet, George is bringing Lee Jordan with him. That guy couldn’t keep quiet at a funeral.”

“Lee’s coming this year?”

“His family’s off having an American vacation, and George didn’t want to leave the shop for that long. I think he kind of wants to show his boyfriend off.”

“Ah, figures.”

The pair finally reached the still-open door to the Burrow, and were embraced in the inevitable furry bear hug by Molly.

“Harry! I’m so glad you could come. And Ginny dearest, I do wish you’d grow your hair out a little more. I’m starting to get confused between you and Bill these days.”

“ _Mum_ ,” she groaned, slipping out of Molly’s arms and into the wild array of Weasleys that were congregated in the living room that Harry swore had grown since last time he was in it. Molly helped him to guide the pile of gifts passed little Victoire, who blew raspberries at him and disappeared, and under the tree.

Ron reappeared at Harry’s side, with some fudge held in one hand and Harry’s Sickle in the other.

“Who was it?”

“Charlie, would you believe it? Apparently he brought a baby dragon with him to show ‘Toire. Mum was shouting at him for ten minutes apparently, he’s gone to organise a portkey to take it back.”

“Your family is crazy.”

“Hey, it’s your family too mate.”

* * *

 

Dinner went without much event, pranks by George and Teddy aside, and seven-year-old Victoire was knee-deep in wrapping paper before it finally happened. Harry was sitting in one of the deep armchairs, a half-empty glass of firewhiskey in one hand, just watching the dozens of interactions pass between members of the Weasley clan.

He could remember back when he’d first met them all, and the first time he’d been to the Burrow. The time that Molly had claimed him as a son, all the times that he’d been completely welcomed into their lives as one of their own. Asking nothing, and offering everything. Maybe Harry had lost the family he was supposed to have had, but in his friends and the Weasleys he had found his own. Without thinking about it, Harry started playing with the ring that sat unobtrusively on his left hand.

“Harry,” Molly said slowly, “what’s that on your hand?” The quiet intensity in her voice was enough to bring the rest of the family to silence, even the heavily accented story that Fleur was trying to tell Charlie, even though the latter clearly only understood one word in three.

“You mean my ring?” he asked, puzzled.

“It’s on your ring finger. Harry, are you engaged?” She’d started to puff up, in the impossible way that she did, that made her seem three times are large as she actually was. It wasn’t precisely _anger_ that she was showing, more a concentrated sort of protectiveness the likes of which he’d never seen.

“Well, yeah, I thought Ron told you.”

“Mate, I wasn’t going any closer to that than I would a blast-ended skrewt.”

“To whom?” The words were laced with more power than the most difficult spell he’d ever seen performed. Like the only reason they weren’t crackling in the air was because it was too cold a night. Harry’s eyes flicked across the room, just for a moment, just to gauge Ginny’s reaction.

Molly whirled around to her daughter, who was now looking pretty pissed at Harry herself.

“Ginevra Weasley, you got engaged and you didn’t tell your _mother_? Of all the-“

“If they’re engaged, honey, where is Ginny’s ring?” Arthur piped in, trying to be helpful. Every eye in the room darted to Ginny’s bare left hand, even Harry’s.

“Oh sh- I mean, Merlin’s beard. I must have forgot it again. Sorry Harry.”

Harry couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Every time you take it off to fly, you forget to put it back on again. I reckon you’ve worn it less than you have, in the last six months.”

“Six months-“ Molly seemed to lose the ability to speak at that, and instead burst into tears, gathering first Ginny into her arms, then dragging her daughter across the room so she could embrace Harry at the same time. “I’m so happy for you,” she wept, thoroughly drenching her cheeks.

Once Molly had regained her composure, another glass of firewhiskey was poured for all but one of the attendees.

“To the bravest, toughest, most famous person any of us have ever met,” toasted George, “and Harry Potter, of course.”


End file.
